The Boy Scout and the Hacker

Chris's Family - Chris

Chris's Family - Chris

We walked out of the church and got in the car. I asked Sam, "What did you think? Everyone loved you. Thankfully, it was a stimulating sermon today. We haven't actually discussed anything remotely religious, so perhaps you weren't really comfortable in the pew. I haven't heard you sing much, and what I have heard hints you'll remain in the pews when you attend. There are a lot of spouses who aren't choir members and don't attend except on special occasions. I suppose you could be one of those. I'll continue to sing, but I won't put any pressure on you."

Sam said, "I will support you as a fiancé or wife should. But Chrissy? I can't quite get my head around that."

I gave my "aw shucks" shrug. "For some reason, little old ladies feel compelled to use a diminutive. It's an unwritten law. Thomas, the other bass, is six-foot-four and weighs 250 pounds, and they call him Tommy. What can we do?"

"I suppose you could correct them," she suggested.

I gave her my feelings about that. "Absolutely not! It would be rude."

She went for the jugular. "All right. I concede. I only hope they refrain from pinching your cheek."

I was silent for a bit. "This morning hasn't been what I expected. It's pretty clear that you'd prefer to be somewhere else on a Sunday morning. We'll figure it out--later.

"On to a different topic. Guess who's coming to dinner?"

Sam gave me the side eye. "Who?"

I dropped the bomb. "Mom; Maggie, Guido and their three daughters; Jen and Dave, her husband; and Shay and Mark. I'll start cooking as soon as we get home. Why don't you go for a long run and take a long shower? Perhaps the steam coming out your ears will have cleared by the time they arrive at 3 p.m."

She went white in the face, and I prepared for the storm. "Is this to get back at me for Thursday?"

"That is really selfish and unfair," I slashed back. "The invitation to your parents' home was sudden, but I was happy you wanted them to meet me. When your brothers arrived with a throng, I was surprised, but I didn't blame you. I had anticipated a rocky road with Shay and had asked for it. How is my inviting my family and your best friend to a family gathering any worse? They can't help but love you, and they'll be a big part of our lives going forward. I'm sorry I forced you to attend church. I didn't realize how much you'd hate it. Do you want me to call and cancel for today?"

Sam burst into tears. Women did that to gain the upper hand when they were in an untenable position. "I'm sorry. You're right, I'm selfish. I wanted Sunday to be just us. I have nothing against church, but it has never been important to me in the past. And the image of lazy Sundays with my best friend and lover was so appealing, I wanted that to be the only way Sundays would ever be. And it was unfair. I should be happy that you want to show me off to everyone as your one and only love forever. I really am, but my knee-jerk reaction was to lash out. Please forgive me?"

"Good Lord! Of course, I forgive you. I have heard it said that whatever else happens in a marriage during the day, never go to bed angry. We'll close this episode in bed tonight and we won't go to sleep until we agree the anger is gone. Deal?" I held out my hand.

She sniffled once more and took my outstretched hand. "Deal."

Sam wasn't quite done. "Now, I'm going to go for a run. I've let a desirable habit lapse as you made me gallivant around the world. After a brisk five miles, I'll shower--alone--then help you in whatever way I can after I'm dressed."

She gave me a valley-girl, "Byeeeee!" and headed upstairs to change.

I got to work as she headed out the door. Everybody loves quiche, so I threw together three different ones--ham, veggie, and plain--to please both adults and kids. With a long shopping list in hand, I headed to the store. Dessert would be vanilla ice cream with every fixing I could dream up--different fruits, nuts, and syrups, plus cans of whipped cream instead of my superior homemade version. The kids loved to splurt it out of the can onto a sundae or into their mouths, but there would be no nozzles in mouths today. That was only for when they slept over with their uncle, which was a pretty regular occurrence.

We would also have salad, so I got plenty of extra fixings for that as well. I'd give Sam that task, with the kids "helping." I knew that the help of three little girls, aged four to seven, made any task at least twice as difficult and three times as messy, but since Sam had nieces and nephews, she could handle it. She would also have to contend withourchildren in the not-too-distant future.

Sam returned from her run in quite a lather and headed for the shower. I dropped in to see if I could assist. Soap bubbles covered all that lovely skin, so I suggested she needed help to rinse. Judging by feel, I was pretty sure her skin was soap-less by the time she stepped out.

I hadn't exerted myself significantly in the kitchen, so I relied on my shower from last night and my church clothes to carry me. We didn't have sufficient time, regardless. Everyone would arrive soon, and I didn't think it would be wise to make Sam greet them by herself. One blowup in a day is plenty.

Dinner went as expected. Mom sat in her chair, studying the two of us. I knew her mind was churning as she evaluated every gesture, every facial expression, every verbal interaction. She had said almost nothing beyond hello after she entered, which was atypical for my mother.

Maggie admired Sam's ring. She took her aside and whispered something. Sam grinned.

Guido was his usual outgoing Italian self. When Sam said, "We drove past Milan last week," he grunted.

I wasn't sure what that meant, so I asked, "Do you have something against Milan?"

He said, "Driving past it is the best plan."

The girls loved Sam and begged to get their hair cut short like hers. When they learned they would be getting a second aunt, they went wild. Apparently, aunts were status symbols or something.

Jen was ecstatic to see Sam. She found it amusing that her misstep of providing me with Sam's private cell number had led to engagement, a steady job, and marriage.

Mark swept Sam up in his arms when he came through the door. "Long time, no see, sis. You let me know if this dude doesn't treat you right. I'll turn him into a grease spot for you."

He then turned to me and gave me an extra-firm handshake. I was no slouch in the handshake department, so I gave as good as I got. He turned up the pressure, and I matched it. Then I gave a bit more, and he matched. We held like that for a ridiculously long time as everyone looked on and chuckled. Finally, we both released simultaneously and said, "Draw!" Everyone applauded.

Mark laughed, put his arm around my shoulder, and squeezed. "Shay, you gave me the impression he was a total wuss."

Shay punched him in the arm--hard. "I said nothing of the sort, you lummox. Never believe what a lawyer says, Chris. I have so many lawyer jokes, I could entertain everyone all evening. The handshake thing is how he judges everyone. He has crippled many a woman. He has also accepted some of the guiltiest clients just because they could stay with him up to level two."

I had not seen this side of Shay during our interview. I thought we would be close friends once we worked out the kinks.

Aside from Mom, the only one who hadn't said much to this point was my brother, David. We had both worked in this building during our summer holidays from college. He was the scientist in the family, and taking up the reins of Dad's company had always been the plan. It just happened too early. David got thrown into the pool with little preparation, but he seemed up to the task. My shareholder report showed that the new plant was up and running with few snafus. They had added some good new customers and were churning out new products left and right.

"You finally found a woman willing to live in this smelly old chemical plant. My condolences, Sam. You wouldn't believe some of the tasks we had to do when we worked here. Chris, tell her sometime about the elevator pit. I almost throw up whenever I even think about it."

I laughed. That was a story I had told to many people. I hadn't told Sam yet, but I planned to.

I pushed people into the dining area. "Sam and girls, put the salad together. There's lots of stuff in the fridge. Pick anything you want. Sam, ride herd and add the dressing when you're satisfied with its construction. Everyone else, sit down, and I'll pour wine."

A general uproar arose. "No, no, no!" This was a standing joke. Everyone knew they'd never get a decent glass of wine in my house. I saw no reason to buy something I had no means of evaluating in any manner besides price. Water and sparkling juices were served at my dinners.

I moved over near Maggie and whispered in her ear. "What did you say to Sam when you corralled her?"

She grinned and told me. "I merely said, 'So far, so good.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Well, when you brought her to the restaurant that first time, I somewhat implied that I would sic Guido-the-would-be-mafioso on her if she broke your heart. Your heart still appears fine."

"Now I remember. You whispered to her and then took our order. You are bad!"

The salad arrived at the table looking beautiful. The counter and the floor around where they worked? Not so much.

I had already sliced each of the quiches and placed them on trivets. Each person passed their plate to me, and I placed a slice of the specified pie on the plate and sent it back.

As I sat down with my own plate, Mom started rapping on her water glass then picked it up. "Listen up! A toast to Sam and Chris. I have been watching all of you for the past half hour, and I like what I have seen. Sam, I give you my seal of approval and welcome you to the family. I know we will have a close in-law relationship, and I preemptively offer babysitting if it is required. I wish Frank could be here with us. He would have loved you, Sam. I have sat on the sidelines for years, wondering what was keeping Chris from finding a mate. Now I know. He was waiting for you. Now eat, everybody. By the way, Sam, if you need to get my attention, call me Elaine. It's too early for Mom."

Everyone dug in and stopped talking for a while. That was one of the biggest compliments to a cook's ear. No voices, just clinking silverware.

Once we cleared the table, we filed past the sundae station one by one. Each of us loaded a bowl with whatever we wished. Marnie, my oldest niece, shot whipped cream as requested.

Back at the table, a general uproar ensued. Some people were asking Sam and me the usual relationship questions: How and when did you meet? Where did you find that beautiful ring? Do you kiss?--that was a kid question. And on and on. Others were asking about our time in Europe: What were you doing? Where did you go? Did you shoot anybody? etc. Others were wondering when the wedding was going to be so they could pencil it in on their calendars. We had no answer to that one and explained that Sam's mother had complete control of that, and we would be notified at the appropriate time. Everyone talked amongst themselves, catching up on each other's lives. Shay and Mark were brand new to this group, so my family asked a lot about Sam and Shay's friendship and business.

Sunday dinner started early in order to end early. Everyone had something to do early on Monday morning. The place cleared pretty fast. Sam and I made quick work of kitchen cleanup and headed for the Jacuzzi. When we were sufficiently relaxed, we climbed under the covers and snuggled into sleep.

The last thing I heard from Sam was, "Interesting." Then zzzzz's. I had survived our first fight.

#

#

Shot! - Sam

Shot! - Sam

I bounced out of bed, put on some running gear, and headed out the door. I planned to run to Lincoln Park, through the zoo, and back. A nice, gentle six miles. I'd scout out other routes in the coming months. That was what I did whenever I moved to a new neighborhood.

I got back, took a shower, and donned my casual work outfit. I was working from home today. T-shirt and shorts only. I went down and perched behind my desk. I thought about what I wanted this workspace to look like and jotted a few notes. Then I made a list of professors I wanted to talk to about AI.

Chris rolled out of bed, tossed on shorts and a T, and came down the stairs. He saw me already at work and noted my damp hair. He asked, "Have you already been out for your run? You have a commendable work ethic."

"Bring me my cereal whenever you want. Remember, no delay between pouring the cold milk and putting it in my lap." I grinned, gave him a peck, and pushed him away.

The cereal arrived sometime later along with a small insulated pitcher of milk. With service like that, he deserved a tip, so I flashed him. My tips were very pointy, and his eyes bugged out like a cartoon character, complete with sputtering and stuttering. He quickly moved in and latched onto one nip with his lips. After a brief period of him acting like a baby, I pushed him away. Shirt back down and back to work. Chris walked to his office in a daze.

He called Shay to see how her thoughts were shaping up regarding the consulting arrangement. She opened the conversation by thanking him again for dinner. "Your family is so much fun, and Mark and I really enjoyed getting to know them. I'll be talking to the company lawyer today about the steps to get a PI license. I think it would be a good idea if you listed former clients and what you did for them. That'll give me a picture of what your business is so I can make an action plan for you."

I started calling professors. First, Boston since they were an hour ahead of us. I talked to my mentor and two others with research interests touching on AI. By the time I finished talking to them, Californians were up and functioning. Another couple hours' talk and pages of notes, and it was lunchtime.

I called out, "Chris, I want lunch!"

"That jolt you gave me earlier was more effective than coffee to get me going. I have been working hard on a report for Shay detailing each of my previous clients. She wanted to know how I made contact, what the job was, how successful the operation was, and how much money I got. It's dumb that I haven't done this before. What is my strength? Seeing patterns, connecting dots. I'm seeing them now, and I'll bet Shay will, too. This will help her figure how I should approach a search for clients and how I can sell myself."

"Great! Things are moving along," I said. "I spent the entire morning talking to former professors. I have a general idea of what AI is now and some ideas of where it might be employed. It boils down to algorithms and data. Algorithms and programming are my forte, but large data sources are not so readily available. So much of the current work is proof of concept like generating 'human' editorial writing. The programs create stunning prose occasionally, but the usual result is stilted and stupid. Only brain-dead humans talk like that. I'm thinking that chemical formulation might be worth exploring. I'd love to have a conversation with your brother. Do you think he would be open to that?"

Remembering why I had yelled his name earlier, I said, "I'm hungry. Any chance you got some seafood salad when you were at the store yesterday? I know we have crackers, so I'll eat cheese if we don't have the seafood."

He assured me that David would talk to me, and we did indeed have seafood salad.

"Shall I put it on plates or set the store container between us and have at it with forks, which is what I do when I'm alone? Whichever you prefer is A-okay."

It required little thought. "Let's sit at the table and share. I got an email from Shay, so I'm going to run into the office to talk with a prospective client as soon as we finish. I'll need to change into business clothes first. Wanna watch? Underwear is required at the office. Sorry."

Chris declined. "I've been known to attack sexy women, so I'll regretfully say no. I'm going to send this stuff to Shay then go to the gun range to practice. Next time, you can go with me for your first training session. I also need to talk to someone from the Illinois Department of Financial and Professional Regulation about PI licenses. My preliminary search revealed that to get a license, you need supervised experience, typically three years of employment at an agency. I expect the stuff I have done for the CIA and on my own will count."

By the time I was ready to go, Chris had sent his report to Shay and headed to the range. I got into Tessy and headed to the office. Shay was in the conference room with Darcy Milano, our lawyer. I poked my head in to say hi and also mention Chris's PI search. Darcy said she would talk to some people as well. She regularly worked with a PI agency and felt they might be amenable to taking Chris on to cover that base. I was sure anything they assigned him would be child's play compared to what he had done on his own. Shay said she would be done in a few minutes. We would discuss the possible new client then.

I said goodbye to Darcy as she headed out the door. Then I went into the conference room and sat with Shay. She apologized for rejecting Chris.

I reassured her. "No, you were right. We need more of the clients we understand, not clients who need something that Chris can provide. We're stressed handling all the business that is knocking at our doors because each of us is drawn away from our primary jobs to do, in the words of Chris,mundanetasks. The third person we need is an office manager, not a private investigator."

Just then, my phone vibrated, and I saw Chris's number. I picked up and said, "Hi, honey." That felt funny. We hadn't used pet names yet. "I sure hope a better pet name crops up. Honey just doesn't do it for me. But I digress. Why are you calling?"

"I'm just on a break between shooting sessions and wanted to make sure you haven't forgotten me."

I smiled and made sure Chris could hear it in my voice. "What was your name again? Shoot a target for me. Love you. Bye."

Shay had sat there quietly during my phone call. She laughed about the pet-name thing. "Mark and I have pet names. They occur organically. Thinking about it messes with your mind. We try to keep them private, but they have occasionally slipped out in public and caused us minor embarrassment."

I headed home. As I drove, I remembered Chris had his first Apollo rehearsal tonight for the new season. Dinner would be leftovers, and he wouldn't be home until 10 p.m. My plan for the evening was to shower, put on some relaxation togs, and then begin the book I'd gotten from the library on Saturday. I planned to test my (our) personal entertainment corner for the first time tonight.

Chris got home smelling of gunpowder and headed up to take a shower. I could have joined him, but I was already clean and settled in my chair. Oh no! Had we already entered the humdrum stage of our relationship? Nah. We each still had a life apart from the ball and chain as any strong marriage would.

He had some time to kill before leaving for rehearsal, so we ate our leftovers in a leisurely manner with conversation about our respective days.

When he got home, he was amped from singing. According to him, that was pretty normal. He told me about the new pieces they would perfect over the coming months. Because the Christmastime performances of the Messiah were old hat for most of the chorus, the director didn't start the "relearn and perfect" rehearsals until November. September and October were for new music for a February concert. There was one more concert in the spring plus numerous optional gigs that earned extra money for the chorus, helping to ward off budget shortfalls.